Til There Was You
by Compulsive Bowler
Summary: Ilse's pity speech left a mark on Moritz and now he and Ilse want out of the death trap that is Germany.  With friends they escape to NYC to live the bohemian life they always longed for. No Moritz/Ilse sorry!
1. New York, New York It's a Helluva Town

A/N Hello again. No school today=50 ideas for new stories so I'm doing well today, not that anyone reading this actually cares. First crossover fic. Rated T for Teen. Pairings will be Moritz/Mark, Hanschen/Ernst (I'm a fan :) Maureen/Ilse and Roger/Melchior. AU where in Germany it's 1891, but in NYC it's 1994…weird. I don't own Spring Awakening or Rent obviously…enjoy the story. Takes place during SA at the beginning and postRent.

Running, running that was all Moritz could do.

"Ilse wait!" He screamed, but received no answer. No help. Nothing but a dark sky full of the stars. He pointed the pistol up to the sky, placed his index finger on the cold trigger and shot. Now all he had to do was make a decoy.

"Moritz?" Ilse whispered quietly to herself. "Moritz are you ok?" She asked assuming the worst. Of course she was so far away that even if she had screamed Moritz wouldn't have heard the soft feminine voice calling to him. Sprinting back to the spot where she had left Moritz with a cold farewell, she bumped into a tree. Wait, the tree was moving…

"Moritz! Oh thank god you're ok!" Ilse shrieked while hugging him and pulling him closer to her by the second.

"Ilse I'm sorry. My parents kicked me out of the house! I was not promoted and they think that I'm "with" Melchi. It's terrible!" Moritz sobbed into Ilse's shoulder. "I just want to go to a place where I won't be patronized for this. Away, to a more accepting land. One with drop outs, failures, and queers living everyway you look." Ilse could think of only one location with this, New York City.

"New York." Ilse replied frankly.

"What?"

"New York City. That's where you want to go. You just described it perfectly. Moritz, we should go to New York!" Ilse exclaimed with a fiery passion in her voice.

"Define we" Moritz commanded. He would not have Georg and Otto following him around the city, the exotic city where with any hopes, he would soon be living.

"Those of us who want to of course! You, me, Hanschen, Ernst-"

"Ernst Robel? Are you high he has it swimmingly here!" Moritz screamed, secretly envying Ernst's happiness.

"Moritz, he and Hanschen are together. How did you not know this?" Ilse asked to her dense, oblivious friend.

"Whaaaaa-? Wow. I'm not sure how I missed it—Oh wait, yes I do! I was trying to pass my finals. I'm not Melchi, I have to try to do well in school and it still doesn't work." Moritz expressed this to Ilse, fear in his voice following the sarcastic remarks at the beginning.

"Either way continue," Ernst said solemnly with remorse in his voice for snapping at his dear friend.

"And Melchi. He wants out too. With the essay getting around he doesn't want to stay around here for the imminent backfire,"

"Ok, this plan sounds safe. Tell the others, I want to tell my mother before we leave." Moritz said as he turned his back on his almost-suicide site. A life that he once lived with contentment would disappear for good with any luck.

A/N So, that's the first chapter. I have all day to write so another chapter will be up soon-ish. Next, telling the others and Moritz's talk with his Madre. R&R bitte :)


	2. All Those Things are Left Behind

A/N Hehe so I didn't update again that day. As a matter of fact I'm updating almost a week later. As promised, this chapter will focus on Moritz's discussion with his mom and a little of Ilse telling everyone the plan. Reviews to me are the spazziness to Moritz and Mark…it just works.

Moritz walked slowly down the quiet street towards the building he once called home. He knew his father would have already gone to bed, but his mother would be up knitting. Gently reaching towards the door to knock, he froze. His mind told him to either knock or run away, but Moritz did neither. He just stood there still as a statue, frozen as ice. About 3 minutes later Frau Stiefel opened the door despite the lack of sound to find her son standing there with a deer in the headlights expression on his face.

"Moritz? Are you alright?" she asked thoughtfully, being careful not to sound angry.

"Mom, I'm leaving. Ilse and I…we're going to New York." Moritz replied and his mother could sense the fear he felt just from that sentence.

"Moritz, it's ok, I understand. I just want you to know that despite anything your father says, I will always love you and miss you. Let me get you some money so you can pay for boat tickets." She said quite understandingly, but with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Despite his relationship with his father, Moritz and his mother were very close. Moritz felt like he could trust her with anything and she wouldn't be judgmental. Leaving her was going to be hard but it had to be done.

"Mama, I'll miss you more than you'll ever know." Moritz spoke softly and truthfully.

"It's ok dear, I know. You can write to me anytime you want. Just sign it with the name of whomever you end up rooming with," she said then saw the confused expression on Moritz's face. "You didn't think you and your friends could afford to have your own place did you? In New York the more roommates you have, the less you have to pay for rent monthly." Moritz nodded in understanding.

_Meanwhile_

Ilse had gathered everyone there. Mechior, Ernst, and Hanschen none to pleased to have been called to a middle of the night emergency meeting, gathered in the vineyard immediately.

"Moritz and I have decided to go to New York," Ilse announced proudly. It was so silent she swore she could have heard crickets from France chirping their gleeful song. "And we want you guys to come with us…" she trailed off.

"I'm in. Get me out of this hell that we're damned to by the bonds of family," Melchior announced proudly after a few moments of awkward silence.

"I agree with Gabor, if we stay here our parents will suffocate us with their antics. Ernst?" Hanschen offered to the rest of the group.

"I-I don't know Hanschen," Ernst said softly, "I'll miss my family terribly-" Ernst trailed off, his eyes avoiding contact with the other members of the group who were awaiting a response. "But I guess it's worth it for you," he said and then smiled. Hanschen tried not to show his relief, but failed miserably when he saw the gleam in Ernst's eye and pulled Ernst in close for a kiss of nothing but trust.

"Then it's decided," Ilse said confidently, "we will leave when the clock strikes 5."

5 AM

Ernst had received the money from his mother and had gotten all of his clothing together before he embarked off with the others. It was that day that his life would change forever; it was the day he left Germany.

A/N So I'm going to skip the boat ride there because I wouldn't be able to do it accurately. Next chapter, drama ensues on Ellis Island.


	3. Just Some Guy

A/N: Wowww…if there's anyone following this story, I apologize. Blame school. And spring musical. And pretty much anything else you can think of :) Without further ado, chapter 3!

"Wow, that was nauseating," Hanschen complained. Normally, everyone else would have rolled their eyes and told him not to be so sadistic. However that's all any of them had done over the 2 month passage, but now they were here. Ellis Island and New York held many new hopes and dreams for a bright new future.

The monitor violently shoved each of them into line for full examinations. From the painful eye stabbing to the way they were bent over, almost snapping their backs, for scoliosis tests, the future did not seem too bright.

They butchered Moritz's name, they handled all of them as if they were nothing but packaged meat being shipped off to market, and when it all seemed as if it were over, terror struck.

"What do you mean 'my papers aren't in order'?" Ilse inquired, rather annoyed at the monitor.

"Well Miss, it seems as though you have a questionable background which is not a very strong foundation for this country. For all we know you could be carrying diseases and vermin and we would have no clue because you didn't bring any documentation." He replied blankly. Ilse had had it.

"I don't care! Isn't America supposed to be a land of justice and hope? What happened to all men are created equal?"

"I'm sorry miss," he clearly was not sorry. The malice in his voice rung like a church bell in a quiet town, "but rules are rules. Entrance denied. You will be deported back to Germany immediately."

"*Bitte Herr? Ich weiss dass ich war frueher nicht nett, aber kannst du mir helfen? Bitte, fuer ein klein Maedchen?" Ilse asked, slipping back into her native tongue.

His lip trembled. She saw the small beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead as he shifted his eyes back and forth. "I'm sorry Miss, but I can't allow it."

"Well what do we do now?" Moritz asked, exasperated by the previous event.

"All that we can do, I will deal with my own consequences. I appreciate all that you do for me, but I have to do this on my own," Ilse replied. The hint of sorrow in her voice made them all unsure, but alas Ilse was right. Not just for her, but for all of them.

"I hate to admit it," Melchior began, "but she is correct. I think it would be best if we parted ways at this point. We came to the country to start a new life, but how can we do that if we have our past to tie us down?"

"Gabor, you are a regular Kant, but how is that supposed to work? We haven't even gotten into this country yet and you already want to abandon us," Hanschen replied.

"If I am a regular Kant, then how are we supposed to enlighten ourselves to life if we cannot step outside the cave of what we know? How do we learn if we do not seek wisdom in a new form?" Melchior replied. The rhetorical questions broke through to the group.

"Okay, it is decided. We shall part ways for 3 days, and in 3 days meet right here," Moritz decided, unusually leader like, while pointing to the Life Café on a map. "Best of luck all." With that they parted.

Moritz:

Moritz timidly scrawled around Soho searching for work, a place to stay, or any hope of beginning his life in New York. Exhausted, he collapsed on a bench on the sidewalk and hoped to rest for a few moments before continuing his search. Just as his mind began to wander off, he snapped back to attention. 

"Excuse me," a mild voice rang in his ear, "do you mind watching this for a moment?" The voice came from a young man no older than 25, holding a brown paper bag.

"No…o-of course not," Moritz stuttered. The young man's soft, blue eyes gazed into Moritz's soul for a brief moment before he took the bag.

They remained there in peace for a few minutes while the young man wound the crank on his camera and intensively filmed two young children jumping on the sidewalk across the road. Moritz couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about this man seemed genuine and understanding. Perhaps it was the way he mournfully looked of in the distance when he was done filming, but Moritz had to know more about this man.

"I'm Moritz," he said, returning the bag. "I just moved from Germany and I was wondering if you knew of any work in the area…"

"Sure. There's an opening where I work, Buzzline," he grimaced at the mention of the show. "It's for a janitorial position, but if you're willing to work, they're willing to pay."

"Thank you so much! How can I ever repay you?" Moritz asked eagerly.

The sad soul smiled, "I do believe that I was in debt to you. You just helped me film for my latest documentary. By the way," he held out his hand to shake, "Mark. I'm Mark." The two shook hands and smiled before Mark walked away, much happier than when he first came up.

After a brief moment Moritz called after Mark, "Wait! I do not know where this building is!" On that note, he tripped, toppling down to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked with genuine concern, "do you need some ice?"

"It could not hurt," Moritz offered meekly.

"Come back to my place for a bit and I'll get you acquainted with the city," Mark offered sweetly, yet firmly.

Maybe it was the quick smile, or Moritz's naïve, innocent mind, but against any other's common sense, he went with the stranger. No, not a stranger, Mark; his first friend in America.

*Translation: Please sir? I know that I was not kind earlier, but can you help me? Please, for a small girl?

A/N: Ok so I hope my delay didn't aggravate anyone too much. I should be updating much more quickly now that everything is over. Next chapter, Melchior and Ilse in NYC.


	4. Better Than Before

A/N: So I didn't update in forever again, sorry. No excuses, I'm just lazy. I apologize if anyone is actually following

Ilse roamed about on Ellis Island. There was no way the guard was going to let her in, but she couldn't go back to Germany. She had been living on her own for a while, but even still being alone in a strange, new country scared her. After a bit of aimless wandering she stumbled and bumped into a striking woman. She was about 5' 8" with dark brown hair (with copper highlights) and bright red lips.

"Oh sorry there honey, I didn't see you," the woman apologized to Ilse. Taken aback, Ilse had no response. She had never seen a woman this beautiful and stunning in her life.

"It is not a problem ma'am," Ilse replied meekly, as if to apologize for being apologized to.

"I'm Maureen. You must be coming in!" She proudly proclaimed. Bold. Ilse liked boldness.

Ilse had to keep her courage up. She was not going to blow her first conversation with an American who might help her get in. No doubt, this woman could seduce any guard. "I was, but there were some complications concerning my history. Apparently, it is rather questionable."

"Honey," Maureen said while gingerly stroking Ilse's arm, "come with me."

Incredulously Ilse replied, "You can get me in?"

"Of course! I work here silly…that is, when I don't have actual work," Maureen replied, casually opening up the conversation. The conversation would revolve around her, but she was perfectly okay with that.

"Actual work…?" Ilse did not understand. Back in Germany there was no "real" work and "faux" work, just work.

"Sweetie I'm an actress!" Maureen exclaimed. It was clear at this point that Maureen showed a desire towards Ilse. Not knowing how to express that feeling to the little German immigrant, she figured it best to help Ilse first. "Just come with me," Maureen said more than a little seductively. And despite Ilse's better judgment, she did.

Maureen pulled her shirt down a little and went up to the guard, "Excuse me, Bill," so the guard's name was Bill apparently. Ilse could tell that they were already fairly well acquainted. "I just wanted to make you aware that I noticed you noticing me, and I wanted to put you on notice that I noticed you too," Maureen said suggestively before throwing in a wink and licking her lips for extra measure. As Maureen stood and chatted with Bill, the bulge in Bill's pants became more apparent to Ilse. A few awkward minutes stood by when Ilse pondered the application of Maureen's plan, but when Bill noticed his erection it all became clear.

The second Bill looked down; Maureen whispered "Run." They had officially ditched Bill and sprinted past the lines of immigrants. They weaved through the crowds of anxious Italians trying to gain entrance to the "magnificent" world of America, and hurdled over a poor Russian family before they caught the ferry back to the island of Manhattan. On the ferry, Maureen's perfectly-tousled hair blew back in the wind, while the sun brought out the copper highlights and illuminated her structured face. It was no question that Maureen was gorgeous, but at the moment Ilse saw her as more of a maternal figure than a potential girlfriend. Maureen was, of course, a very poor influence, but Ilse saw her as one of her own. Back at Priapya, they would have adored her. Maureen had that attitude that screamed "nothing you say or do can make me back down," and "I have total control over you." Ilse loved that sort of confidence in anyone, but with Maureen, it just seemed sexy. They chatted about their work, lives, relationships, preferences, and before the end of a ferry ride, it seemed as if they'd known each other forever.

"There's an adorable little café around where I live called the Life, wanna meet up later?" Maureen asked, leaning her shoulder in just enough, to give Ilse that sense of comfort that a new girl in the city needed.

"That would be great! By the way, is there any possibility that you can help me get some work around here? I need a job to help support my friends and I," Ilse asked cautiously.

"Of course! I have a painter friend, well not really a friend, more of an acquaintance-with-benefits, but he's hiring new models for his studio. I know that would be right up your alley," Maureen said sweetly. "You really had the right idea going into modeling and all, sit around, do basically nothing, and get paid. I like it." The vigor in Maureen's voice grew with a direct correlation to their distance. Soon before they were out of ear-shot in Battery Park, Ilse realized that she had no idea where the Life Café was.

"Wait! Maureen, where should I meet you?" 

"Meet me on the corner or 11th street and Avenue B. Then we'll catch up and go to dinner," Maureen replied cattily. And as Ilse walked away with a new-found hope in her mind and stride in her step, she couldn't help but wonder if this was a date.

A/N: Once again, I shall try to update sooner! School is almost out and I'll have some time. Next chapter I _will _get to Melchior in NYC. Reviews are always welcome :)


	5. All Hail the Brain

A/N: Well in case you haven't noticed, I don't update on this story very often. I will make a deal though. I have already written the next chapter, but I won't put it up until I get at least 10 reviews. That's 10 reviews total, you guys can do that! I need to know if the story is any good or if it makes you all want to throw up (vomit, not a rainbow). So R&R for my sake!

Melchior trudged violently through Battery Park. _How could they do that to Ilse? _Once his temper had calmed down, he took a seat on a nearby bench and decided that Ilse would find her own solution to this predicament. After all, there was no harm in sitting and enjoying the sights and sounds of his new home.

America was exactly what Melchior imagined it would be. Busy men and women swarmed around the streets; calling taxis and getting coffee. Melchior leaned back and quickly took to analyzing the city. Anyone who passed by the bench, Melchior would take note of his or her stride, activity, comfort level and happiness quotient. For the most part, he deduced that New Yorkers were unhappy with the living situations such as rent and space, in a hurry and spent most of their time talking on cell phones doing business or just chatting.

After an hour or so he decided to move and do something productive. He crossed the busy street and began a steady pace, matching his fellow pedestrians, down the block. He had walked for a half hour before he recognized where he was. He was in the East Village/Soho area. Ilse always raved about how it was her dream to live in Soho because it was the hub of indie culture. Melchior stopped to take it all in. It was beautiful. Not in a glamorous way, but it all felt genuine to him. That this location was where intellectual and philosophical artists congregated. Somehow, even though he was so lost in this city, he felt like he had found his home. He belonged here. He finally reached a nice spot to stop and think on some steps leading to a tall building that looked like a factory, but he assumed was converted into apartments. A man in his mid-twenties also sat there playing on a beaten fender guitar. His hair looked golden in the sunlight and his brow furrowed slightly as he stumbled on a note and attempted to fix it by sliding into it. It frustrated him, so he just restarted.

Melchior recognized the tune that he played, but could not quite put his finger on it. After a minute of searching his mind, he recognized it and couldn't believe he hadn't gotten it sooner. The man strummed a rock variation of Musetta's Waltz from La Boheme, which was Melchior's favorite opera. Sitting for another blissful moment, Melchior gazed into the sky and, as cliché as it sounded, watched the clouds roll by before he heard the young man accompanying him clear his throat.

"Can I help you?" he asked not giving any particular interest in Melchior.

"No, I'm just enjoying life right now, is that acceptable here?" Melchior remarked. He was always best at being a smart-ass philosopher above any level of kindness.

"Here? You mean in front of this building?" the young man inquired, obviously not picking up on Melchior's accent.

"No, in this country. I am new to this area," Melchior explained.

"Oh so you just immigrated here. Well yes, it's acceptable to enjoy life, but it's kind of creepy for you to be doing it right here on my stoop, but it's okay if you do. It's sort of nice to have an audience for once," the guitarist laughed cynically.

"Don't you usually have an audience?" Melchior inquired. This man fascinated Melchior to no end. He was so relaxed even though he looked as if he'd gone through hell and back. He definitely had the been-through-the-mill look, and it made him quite handsome. Of course Melchior considered every human on Earth bisexual, love is love regardless of who you find it with.

"I'm Melchior," he said, hand out stretched to shake.

"Roger," he replied curtly before returning to his guitar.

A now embarrassed Melchior retracted his hand and smoothed his hair as a diversion. "So some of my friends and I, we're looking for a cheap place to stay, do you know of any good locations?" he asked trying to avoid eye contact with Roger.

"What's your price range?"

"As cheap as possible would be ideal," Melchior bluffed innocently. In actuality, he didn't know how much money they had. Even through the torturous passage across the ocean, they had never all put their money together for a sum total.

"Tell you what," Roger said, practically beaming boredom, "this building is dirt cheap if you're interested. Our friend Benny owns it, so I could probably get you a discount."

"That would be fantastic! Thank you Roger."

"Now do me a favor, get off the stoop so I can practice in peace."


End file.
